Collision
by marie0912
Summary: For the Slash/Backslash 02 contest - "We were best friends for five years. We were enemies for almost fifteen. Will you be my lover for the next fifty?" The card that lay nestled with the crushed bouquet of daisies read. A romantic tragedy.


**SLASH BACKSLASH ONE-SHOT CONTEST**

**Story Name: Collision.  
Pen name: Marie0912  
Pairing: Edward/Jasper  
**_**Disclaimer:Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written**__**authorization.©2010 Marie0912 (Marie .L.A.). All rights reserved worldwide.**_

**To see other entries in the "SLASH BACKSLASH" contest, please visit the C2: ****.net/c2/68069/3/0/1/**

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"_We were best friends for five years. _

_We were enemies for almost fifteen. _

_Will you be my lover for the next fifty?"_

The card that lay nestled with the crushed bouquet of daisies read.

The flower-petals lay carelessly strewn across the asphalt, though some had been stolen by the wind and a few were attached to a bud that still lay protected by the cellophane wrapper.

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_**Year 2010 - present hour.**_

"So... What you are telling me, is that he won't live through this?"

His voice was steady, calm in the darkness, and only Rosie – his love, his other half- could tell how the life and perky spirit in him had died.

She let a single finger trail from his neck to his lower back, assuring him with a gentle touch that she would be there to catch him when he finally fell- which he would. Soon.

The doctor left with a sad nod of his head, choking back strangled and very unprofessional tears as he discreetly wiped his wet cheek with the collar of his lab coat.

The door locked with a silent yet, resounding click, and Emmett's knees gave in as he buckled and fell to the floor.

A howl of pain, a scream that made the hairs on the back of Rosalie's neck stand on end, escaped his lips and before she could get a hold of herself, she was crying too.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders and locking her fingers together in a knot around his chest, she felt the vibrations with every heartbreaking sob he couldn't hide or suppress.

In the corner of the room, a once handsome man lay beaten and battered with tubes and medicine, intended to heal but in this case were entirely in vain, protruding from his body and could only numb the excruciating pain he was in.

A glum sun rose in the south, the light peaking up between the mountains carefully, gently – as if afraid to celebrate the dawn of a new day. The beams of sunlight reached their window and gently caressed his bruised and cut face with its warmth.

The sudden intrusion of daylight finally revealed the severe damage done and Emmett could do nothing but gag and dry- heave at the sight of his brother in his final moments.

In a drug- induced coma, Jasper looked peaceful and serene in spite of his battered body, but they all knew better than to assume he was comfortable.

Rosalie walked over to her cot and pulled up a chair so she could sit next to her brother in law, letting a gentle palm cover the open hand that lay on top of white sheets.

Thoughtfully, Rosalie stroked her straining and full belly with her other hand, feeling the baby move fretfully and kick her bladder – a welcoming motion that made new tears emerge in the corner of her eyes.

Hours earlier, both Rosalie Whitlock and the little baby in her belly had been inches from certain death and the only reason both hearts were still beating was the man who lay dying in their stead.  
If it had been just Rosalie's life saved, the guilt of survival would be next to crippling, but all she could feel as she rubbed the baby bump with her feather light fingers was a rushing ocean of gratitude for the gift of life given her.

Droplets that remained on the window from the morning dew caught the sunlight then, casting an almost invisible rainbow across the room.

Somewhere far away, deep behind layers upon layers in his mind, Jasper fought against the fog of lost memories. With a hand he waved away wet smoke and unveiled thoughts long since forgotten.

He could hear the whispers of reality far, far away and tried in vain to reach out for the voices of people he longed to touch and hug and comfort in their sadness, but failed and crumpled to the ground of fading thoughts and past mistakes.

"How did I get here?" he whispered in the numbing darkness, trying hard to recall what actions had been set in motion to bring on his demise.

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_**Year 1995.**_

"Unf!"  
He gasped for air, barely suppressing a whimper as the rock- like fist of Edward Masen's hand connected with his cheek and eye- socket.

"And don't even glance my way again, you fucking homo!" Edward roared, his voice echoing off the tiled walls of the boys shower and carrying through the locker- room with forceful hatred in every syllable that pestered the air like evil poison, or some sort of extremely contagious disease that every boy in their presence caught.

Jasper was too stunned, too humiliated to speak, and could only watch his attacker's back retreating through the door, the white towel wrapped loosely across hips and hanging dangerously low.

He heard narrow-minded muttering and prejudices from his pathetically large posse as they followed close by, and the slamming of a metal locker as Edward tore it open and pushed it forcefully shut after having grabbed the needed set of sweat pants and tee shirt from inside, getting dressed in a hurry and heading for the parking lot like the coward he was.

He waited, his body and mind numb, protecting itself, as the locker room emptied so he would be left alone.

"Fucking moron, Whitlock!" he finally allowed himself to roar, once he felt sure there was no one else there.

He couldn't help himself this time around.  
"Fucking idiot!" he screamed as he scrambled to his feet and allowed his own fist to connect forcefully with the tiled wall, hearing an audible crack as the knuckles in his fist broke.

"DAMN IT!" Jasper let the fingers of his left hand gently examine the damage as bitter tears filled his blue eyes.

"No. No, you will not cry, you fucking fag!" he roared at himself, his mind filled with Edward's hate as the bitter, acidic seed of self-loathing was planted and nourished in his chest, right next to his heart.

But he slowly dragged his defeated body to the locker room and at the sight that met him he couldn't bear holding it in anymore.

With a sob, he could feel the pain of heart break as he took in his sabotaged locker, his trashed and destroyed clothing and back pack, his personal belongings scattered across the floor, ruined or spit on.

The only piece of clothing they had left for him to wear was a pair of sweat pants.  
Even his shoes were ruined.

With a shudder of disgust, both at his own weakness and because he was currently pulling on a pair of pants that were soiled and quite possibly peed on, he left the quiet space of the boys locker rooms to face the icy winter air bare-chested, barefoot and in spite of himself, fucking crying.

"You really are a pathetic fucking asshole, aren't you?" he whispered to himself as his cheeks, icy cold from the frosty air, were suddenly warm and wet with his salty tears. They were waiting for him in the parking lot- all of them.

Jasper watched as the tall boy - Peter his name might have been - spray- painted the word "Fagot" across the silver paint of his Volvo.

They all laughed.

"Fucking getting a hard- on in the shower Whitlock? Fuck, you disgust me! There is something seriously fucked up in your fucking brain man!" Jasper heard him yell.  
He merely shivered.

As he took in Edward's stony features, the slight hint of a smile at the corner of his beautiful mouth, Jasper felt his insides grow cold.

Their eyes met, and for a moment Jasper thought he saw Edward's green ones widen in some kind of surprise, but didn't linger to find out what else the boy had in store for him.

With a hunched back, he retreated to his car, tolerating humiliating and hateful name calling without even frowning at them.

Their opinion, their view… it didn't matter to him.

All that mattered, all that had ever mattered, was Edward.  
Ever since they were little kids he had been all that mattered.

Their friendship was over, their worlds forever separated as Jasper pushed the gas pedal and drove at a deadly speed through town, leaving Edward and Forks' population of narrow minded fools behind him.  
Though taking his broken heart and pain with along with him. How awful a feeling it is, to have lost your heart at the age of ten to a boy who gave you a hug and a dinosaur band- aid when you were bleeding and crying.

He had declared himself to Edward then, and the beautiful, red-haired boy had merely smiled in return, looking somewhat happy at the revelation.

But he didn't care, Jasper was forced to conclude. He had fought so long, so hard, against the feelings that only kept growing, against the "unnatural attraction" towards a boy, a man who had been his best childhood friend.

But now, at sixteen, he couldn't bear it anymore.  
Couldn't deny the conflicting emotions of hurt and desire as his eyes unwittingly, roamed and lingered on Edward's wet body.

He had noticed, of course, the boy's beauty, hundreds of times before, but he never allowed himself to linger on it, to stare and admire, to fantasize.

Not until now.

And that turned out to be the biggest mistake he would ever make.

He had to get out of this town. He couldn't deal with it anymore.

The bullying had gotten worse and worse over the years the injuries from attacks and beatings harder to hide.

Uncle Carlisle had noticed them the last time he visited, of course. What self- respecting doctor and surgeon would not?

Jasper shuddered at the memory of his uncle's heated argument with his father.  
There had been yelling, there had been chairs thrown through the room and there had been fists.

Daniel Whitlock sure as hell did not have a faggot for a son.

Carlisle had been forced to leave after that, his sister crying and his nephew standing in a corner of the living room with frightened eyes and shame radiating off of him in painful waves.

Their eyes met for a moment, uncle and nephew staring in silence as a silent understanding settled between them.

He left a letter for Jasper as he packed his bags.

_I will never judge you, I will always love you and if the need should arise, ever, you have a home with me. Unconditionally.  
_

Yes, Jasper needed change. He needed to leave this town, the cruelty and Edward Masen behind.

He got home and packed a few bags, wrote his father a note and took a shower.  
He left his belongings, the things that had been destroyed and broken, on the dining room table for his parents to see.

_I can't stay. I can't take it._

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_**Year 2010 - present hour.  
**_

Frowning thoughtfully, his conscious nose caught the scent of reality, of hospital odors and of Rosalie's perfume somewhere far away.  
A rush of emotion caught him like a tornado across a field, enveloped and lifted him off of the ground, surrounding his every sense until it had his already frail heart breaking.

A car rushing past a red light, Rosalie smiling and looking in the wrong direction and Jasper – with impressive speed – pushing both mother-to-be and child to be born out of the way, taking a blow and damage to his body that could not be undone.

In the silence and shattered mirror of thoughts that could barely be recalled, all he wanted to do was cry. He knew his life was over, he knew that death would come for him now – either at the hands of a God or at the hands of merciful medical personnel- and Jasper couldn't even find it in himself to regret the sacrifice he had made.

But it hurt so much to think of mothers and fathers, of brothers, of friends and the baby that he would be too late to see born and breathing, of past love and unfulfilled dreams.

His time on this earth had been short and all he could do was wait for it to end completely, his thoughts to darken and fade, the pain to be gone and his essence hover and disappear.

Regrets.

Jasper thought about the word for a moment, tasting it with his tongue and reliving mistakes, cruel words uttered, lies told and hurt inflicted, whether intentionally or by accident.

Yes, he had made many, many mistakes in his short life, he had told many lies, he had done many selfish things. He had hurt. Some people more than others and the people he had hurt the most were loved ones.

In your final moments, your thoughts surround something your heart longs for. Jasper's heart longed for _him._In the shadows and mist, behind veils of pain and fear, colors changed and images flashed.

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_**Year 2000.**_

With strobe-lights flashing like violent lightning across the big, closed space, and the heavy beats of the trance music genre booming from numerous large speakers, he felt like he was standing in the middle of a surrealistic and frightening thunderstorm.

He squinted his eyes against the uncomfortable and unpredictable flashes of light, tracking his prey with flaring nostrils, anger and jealousy radiating off of him and mixing with the pheromones that oozed from his rain-soaked, sweat soaked clothes.  
Most human beings deny the animalistic side to their nature, even when killing or harming a person for the fun of it; we excuse it, we refuse it.

But in this club, at that moment, there was no denying the truth.

As if nature was trying to prove a point, his prey turned from where he had been moving sensually to the beat of the music, his starched, white shirt crinkling as he twisted around while still technically facing in the wrong direction and meeting a pair of familiar eyes.

Their stares locked and lingered for an unmeasurable eternity, the white in their gaze glinting with each strobe-light flashing across the room and intensifying the painful, nostalgic emotion that suddenly possessed them both.

The predators eyes filled with regret, the prey's with hurt and resentment. He did not want to submit and forgive.

A sudden flash of anger, a change in the air along with the change of music, caused the predator to shudder in fear and his prey to turn away and flee. He'd had enough of games and disloyalty, of the pain and feeling of betrayal every time they collided like flaming meteorites, burning and consuming each other, feeding until there was nothing left.

He wouldn't be broken again.

"Jasper!" the predator tried calling, raising his hand and fisting the air desperately as he watched the object of his pain and desire disappear in the crowd.

As the chase began, he could almost feel his insides splitting along with his heart, fear thundering in his ears to measure the beat of his terrified heart.

He made his way through the crowd, rudely pushing aside moving bodies, his eyes transfixed on the back of Jasper's head as he made his way to the emergency exit in the back of the crowded club.

The crowd got thinner until there was only two men chasing down the black-painted hallway.

"Jasper! Fucking wait!" It was more a demand than a plea, more a growl than spoken words, and it sent shivers of fear down Jasper's spine, closely accompanied by subtle aftertastes of painfully arousing memories from long ago.

For a moment he halted his pace and hesitated, stumbling as he heard the sound of footsteps getting closer.

He set up pace again, ready to push the door to the fire exit open and storm into the rainy streets to find a cab and get the fuck away when a strong hand locked around his wrist and yanked him hard to the side, causing him to slam violently into the concrete wall.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Edward!" Jasper boomed, clenching his right hand into a fist and connecting it with Edward's jaw.

While most men would have backed off and shown signs of physical pain, or maybe even hit back, Edward did neither. Grasping his chin and cracking his jaw, feeling around for a break, Edward quickly pushed Jasper harder up against the concrete, resting his arm across his throat.

He was not choking him, not really, but Jasper was at Edward's mercy and his restraining arm was controlling and restricting his breathing.

It sent chills of fear through his body.

"Let me go," he gasped, his pale, blue eyes filled with emotion contradicting his verbal plea.

Edward scowled and shook his head violently. "No."

"Fucking let me go!" Jasper tried to knee his attacker in the groin but failed, mostly because the will to harm him was not there.

In spite of all the pain Edward Cullen had caused him, Jasper could not stomach the thought of returning the favor.

"Not again," Edward promised darkly, his own eyes finally losing their icy bite and allowing wild regret to seep through.

For a moment, Jasper eyed hope and let his body relax as he searched for something else between them. A memory.

"You never actually let me go, you piece of shit. You made me go," Jasper reminded him.

"You couldn't stand the fact that you preferred dick to pussy, you couldn't deal with being a fucking fag. You couldn't admit it to yourself, even when I had you pinned underneath me in that motel room and your cock down my throat, couldn't admit that you loved it, that you loved me..."

A loaded silence followed, the softness and vulnerability in Edward's eyes reflecting in Jasper's until they hardened once more. Jasper had hit a button.

Half amused, half heartbroken, Jasper decided to continue goading him. Seeing his unmasked reaction was delightfully terrifying and more honest than any conversation between them had ever been.

God, did he hate him.

God, did he love him.

"When did you realize boys turned you on, eh? When? Was it that time in the locker-room when I stared and you blushed? Or was it before that? How long did you deny it?"

"Shut your mouth Jasper," Edward warned him in a low voice.

"Why? I thought you preferred my mouth open, asshole!" Jasper snorted. "Asshole being a key word in this conversation... Oh, I know!" He pretended to pout apologetically. "I'm not on my knees! That must be what's wrong with this picture! And your pants aren't unzipped... My, my, my... We must rectify that, mustn't we Eddie?" he mocked and reached for Edward's rain- soaked jeans, barely grazing a prominent bulge and the zipper with his index finger before Edward swiftly changed positions and had Jasper trapped against the wall with one hand around each of his wrists, making him pose like Jesus on the cross. The glow of rage and hurt in Jasper's eyes made Edward's heart clench.

"Why are you here?" Jasper finally whispered.

He hesitated, swallowing hard, and watched Jasper as he slowly let his head hang forward in defeat.

"Why are _you_ here?" Edward finally decided to turn the tables.

"Fuck you," Jasper bit at him, narrowing his eyes at the accusation in Edward's voice.

"Soon," Edward swore, licking his lips.

Jasper's eyes went wide then, his trousers tight without his volition and his conscience suddenly screaming at him that he should break free now while Edward's grip seemed looser than it was.

But he didn't.

"I hate you."

It was no more than a whisper. Jasper's face turned away and pained as he bit his lip against weak tears and the horrific sensation of his heart breaking for God knows what time by the same damn person.

"No, you don't," Edward said gently, remorsefully, as he let go of Jasper's left wrist and let his hand slide up under his chin, lifting it so he could look him in the eye.

Stubbornly, tortured, Jasper's eyes remained tightly closed showing his fear, his body starting to shake as he felt the warm, moist breath from Edward's mouth across his lips.

"That's what hurts the most, isn't it?" he asked gently, stepping closer even, pressing his chest and entire, sculpted body, up against his, feeling Jasper's breaking heart thunder against his own chest, feeling his lungs expand with each panting breath, feeling his cock harden behind black, tight jeans and revealing the desire he tried so hard to deny. "You try so hard to hate me, you try so hard to move on... and each time I stumble back into your life, abuse your love and your trust, you crumple and break... But you let me do it again and again."

His words were meant to repel, to create a distance between them, to make Jasper see, but the tone of Edward's voice made it all sound like warm velvet and a painful seduction.

_One more time_, Jasper's body craved. Just one more time.

"Do you want my lips on yours?" Edward demanded as his hand traveled down from where he had been grasping Jasper's chin, slowly dragging his fingernails down his throat and the front of his chest, scratching a nipple unexpectedly, painfully and yet so _fucking_ good.

"Do you need my hands on your body?"

His senses were consumed by Edward's presence, by the smell of his body, by his warmth and his breath across his face, by the pain of being so close to him and the ache of not being close enough, and of course, the tickling, tingling, torturous sensation of a warm, strong and confident hand as it unbuttoned the bottom of Jasper's dress shirt and belt buckle, teasing the skin on his lower stomach, just bellow his belly button with his fingers.

As Edward inched his fingers slowly behind the tight denim, placing one knee between Jasper's legs to tease his obvious erection with his thigh, he felt him shudder and take a deep, strangled breath.

Smirking, he raised his eyes from where they had been fixating on the rough handling of Jasper's desire and found something he did not expect in Jasper's face.

Tears.

Without even thinking twice, Edward pulled back and released him, ending their rough game of dominance and submission as he watched the obvious pain on Jasper's face.

For a moment it seemed as though time halted, the music that had been thundering from the next room and sending vibrations from the floor and walls became muted and dulled out and all they felt was pain and their hearts speeding up with fear.

Suddenly Jasper broke through with something Edward had not expected.

"Please..." he sobbed, blindly searching for Edward through bitter and humiliating tears. "Don't leave!" Jasper gasped and stepped closer. "Don't stop," he begged as he wiped away the wetness on his cheeks and went for the collar of Edward's tee shirt with a kind of aggression Edward had never seen him exercise before – it was bordering on desperation and had him slamming into the opposite wall.

Before he could do much more than gasp for air as it was suddenly and roughly knocked out of his lungs, Jasper's mouth covered his in a possessive kiss, bruising his lips.

"Its sick... So sick," he whispered against Edward's lips. "But don't ever stop."

Whimpering, he made a move for the hair at the back of Jasper's neck and forced their lips even closer together, pushing back to move them around and have his prey up against the wall once more, taking control and moving his free hand down to palm the warm and hard cock that was straining against his stomach.

They thought no more.

They fought it no longer.

A moment later, they were out in the rain and hailing a cab to bring them back to Jasper's apartment.

The taxi ride was the longest 10 minutes of Edwards life. He half expected to be thrown out onto the street and told to find another cab, but Jasper did no such thing.

The driver stopped and let them out. Edward payed and watched the car drive off before he turned around to look Jasper in the eye.

He was trembling.

"Come..." he said, walking towards him and taking his hand in his own before grabbing the keys to the apartment out of his hand with the other.

"Lets get you warm..."

Jasper woke the next day to cold cotton sheets and a note on the pillow beside him.

_I'm sorry. I can't.  
E._

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_**Year 2010 - present hour.**_

His palms lay flat and clammy against the floor of his mind, crashing and trying to grab a hold of reality while his entire world spun out of control again. Suddenly, the dull pain that had been nowhere and everywhere at once, just a thought, a memory in the back of his mind came back full force as the darkness turned to sudden and all-too-bright light.

"Not yet...! Not yet, please!" he whimpered, his body throbbing and tearing around him, every bruise hurting and aching, every wounds halfheartedly healing crust burning along with the too tight stitches and somewhere inside him, organs that could not be repaired kept on bleeding.

The light disappeared again to the sound of a grown man's cries. In the back of his mind, Jasper knew it was Emmett, but the dulling pains disappearance overshadowed any feelings of regret at the fact that he didn't get to say goodbye.

In the light of the hospital room sat Jasper's brother stunned in the corner of the room with his back up against the wall. His eyes were wide with fear and shock as he rewound what was most likely Jasper's final words.

The agony, the pain and fear detectable in his brother's words echoed loudly and made Emmett grip at his hair.

The nurse had been quick to take away the pain and consciousness of his patient, but not quick enough. Even those few seconds, maybe even a full minute of agony, was too much.

Emmett would have felt gratitude through his grief if he had allowed his heart to search for it, but he did not.

He just waited for the moment when Jasper would let go of this world and the void that would be left behind when he was no more.

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_**Year 2010 - yesterday.**_

"Nothing about us was ever perfect.  
I think you can do much better than me after all the lies I and bullshit I made you believe.  
I hurt you because I loved you and you let me because you loved me too.  
I fucked up more than once, fucked you over a lot and I'm sorry.  
It's not enough but I am so fucking sorry.  
I couldn't face it, face us. I couldn't deal with my issues or ours, or admit to myself what it was I felt for you.  
I keep looking at old school photos and random shit I saved and forgot, and I keep wondering if... Do I ever cross your mind?  
For me it happens all the time.  
Its late, I know I'm drunk...  
I would have thought you'd change your number by now... Guess not.  
I don't know where you are or what you're doing right now... I don't even wanna think about it, honestly.  
But I am. I am thinking about it, I'm thinking about you.  
So... Yeah.  
Happy anniversary, Jazz...  
It's officially been ten years since the first time I fucked you over. It's been twenty since I broke your heart."

Edward Masen hung up the phone as a single tear ran down his cheek.

He vowed he would never call him again. He would never write. He would stay the fuck out of Jasper Whitlock's life.

He was about to grab yet another bottle from the liquor cabinet, when the phone rang.

"Hello?" he mumbled, not even checking the display.

A long pause followed.

"Happy anniversary, baby..." Jasper whispered gently.

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_**Year 2010 - hours earlier.**_

On his way home from work, Edward stopped by the flower shop with the cheesiest grin painted across his lips.  
He picked out a bouquet of daisies from the bunch and a card to go with it.

Frowning at it for a moment, he tried to think of what to scribble down there.

_What the hell do you say to a man after twenty years of loving and hurting him with equal passion?_

"_We were best friends for five years. _  
_We were enemies for almost fifteen. _  
_Will you be my lover for the next fifty?" _he wrote with shaky penmanship.

He tucked it neatly into the bouquet and got into his car, then looking at his wristwatch.

"Fuck! I'm late!" he whimpered, stomping on the gas pedal.  
How the fuck are you late for the date you have been dreaming of since you were fifteen? How the fuck are late for your second chance?  
What would Jasper think of him if he was late?

Speeding through traffic, he took some pretty ballsy chances and gambled with his life more than once.

Reaching for the phone in his pocket to call and let Jasper know about the possible delay, he accidentally dropped it on the floor.

He looked up in time to catch a glimpse of the only person he would want to see in his final moment, crushed against the hood of his car.  
He screamed in horrified agony as he tried to turn the wheel and spun the car around on its head.

Crumpled metal and daisy petals lay strewn across the asphalt, the blood and white and black creating a morbid sort of abstract art for unfortunate bystanders to see and never forget.

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_**Year 2010 - present hour.**_

A few hours passed as loved ones came and went. Friends Emmett and Rosalie never knew he had, came to pay their respects and media even got involved at some point but were turned away by a hysterical pregnant woman.

He never woke to greet them. He never moved or spoke, didn't even flinch through his pain and his steady heart kept beating inexplicably until the hands on the clock on the wall by the door showed ten to seven.

Emmett was almost too far gone, his face buried in the sheets at the end of Jasper's cot as he fretfully slept. He had sent Rosalie home for the evening.

Tired, pained eyes opened and found Emmett's through the fog.

They looked at each other for a long while, one brother desperately clinging to the hope of life and the other just as desperately trying to let go.

"Love you..." he whispered.

"Thank you," Emmett sobbed.

A life had been given through the sacrifice of two being taken away.

Three weeks later, a baby boy was born.

They named him Jasper Edward Whitlock.

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Fin.**

Thank you so much for reading.  
Please leave me your thoughts in a review if you want to.  
Marie0912


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